Passing the supermarket shelves, it gleams palely out at me, one of those so-called 'standard' chickens, now so reviled by every TV production company and the celebrity chef it's signed up that it's amazing it doesn't blush in death. Like Adam and Eve, its nakedness has been awkwardly covered. It's been limed, thymed and done about with butter to the nth degree and been born again under a chicken witness protection scheme as a Mediterranean roast.
But chickens don't make good liars. Look a little closer and its terminal makeover is somewhat less than skin-deep. Beneath the herbs and fat is a pathetic tucked under foot. It's kicked off its disguise, alerting you to its true identity.
But how very taken we all are with disguises. In fact, our whole lives, to a greater or lesser extent, now resemble a 24-hour fancy dress party. Don't call a turnip a turnip. Vacuum pack it with a carrot, a swede and an onion and call it a cassorole mix, instead.
Come as you are? I think not. Too old? Quick - hide round that curtain with a beauty expert and a syringe, and reappear a few minutes later like a plumped up pillow. Too young? Fake an indentity card? Too wicked? Steal a nicer identity and use that, instead.
See a troublesome child? Hey Presto, now you don't, thanks to the behaviour-altering drug that will turn him (it's usually a him) into a simulacrum of a nice, well behaved youngster though, as with Cinderella, the magic always wears off after dark.
And if you're a government minister being interviewed about a policy that will kill people, like rationed treatment or forcible repatriation or, sometimes, both - as with the dying Ghanaian woman with inoperable cancer seized in a UK hospital yesterday, forcibly repatriated and now cut off from the dialysis that was keeping her alive - hide individual cases by turning them into numbers, trends, statistics, predictions - anything that conceals the fact that underneath them all, underneath the greasy coating of highly seasoned platitudes we're all guilty of slathering them in, there's always a little, pathetic, individual foot poking through. You just have to keep looking for it. I can guarantee it's never very far away.
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11 comments:
That's a very thought provoking and truthful post, Omega Mom. Is it any wonder we all become cynics?
Pray to goodness that Nigella doesn't get her hands on it and drown the poor b*****d in a bucket of brine, like she did with that turkey on Christmas eve.
I couldn't agree with you more. But by the time you get through the candy coating to the festering innards you almost don't know what to believe anymore.
And there's not a makeover in the world that can beautify that.
Sweet Irene: Thank you. It's a bit of a rant but I feel so much better for it. I am sure you are right.
M@L: I'm off to goggle Nigella and brine and see what comes up. I've got to see this.
The Rotten Correspondent: Candy coating and festering innards - I love it.
Some great thoughts there!!
So what's the answer then? I find your analysis of life accurate and depressing.
As for that brine thing, one of my fave blogs is Confessions of a Pioneer Woman (link from mine). She has a separate blog for cooking. In the run up to Thanksgiving, she did a recipe which involved brining a turkey. So before you write Nigella off as weird and wacky, just be aware that there is probably a whole nation somewhere over the Atlantic that considers brining a turkey as completely normal.
I don't feel any better for writing that. I may have helped your curiosity about different methods of cooking poultry on its way a little, but I haven't seen any way forward on that sad poking out foot that is always there if only we look carefully enough.
I do like a good rant! Not sure I can agree with you about rationed treatment though. Rationing is another word for making expenditure equal income; who's offering to fit the bill if nothing's rationed?
I actually felt sickened by the woman who was sent home. The world wants peace? It's not surprising it doesn't come.
Crystal xx
Casdok: Ta v much
Iota: But think how much joy your brine insights will bring to a depressed world. I for one feel so much better. Thank you.
Anna: I wouldn't mind if they were just honest about it. If they said, "Sure, we're going to pick on this dying woman because she's too weak to complain and ten to one the story will die down," at least we'd be able to draw up the battle lines more clearly. But I can't fault your logic.
CJ: See above, I guess.
Great post OM. And I don't know what the answer is, other than, as you say, to keep looking for the foot.
Great post. And of course, because I'm approaching forty I must get highlights to hide the grey and search out the best wrinkle creams. God forbid I should be who I really am. That would be too scary.
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